Make you feel my love
by speechless97
Summary: You know you would do anything to show her how much you love her, and it scares you. Being so completely in love with one person would scare anyone, especially you.
1. Chapter 1

**[I haven't written anything Demily in a while, so here you go(:**

**This was inspired my the song 'Make you feel my love', by Adele.**

**Enjoy :)]**

"_Anyone who says sunshine brings happiness has never danced in the rain"_- Unknown

You pull your car into the deserted parking lot, glancing into the windows of the bar. But you don't see her. You begin to get worried as you glance down at your phone, at the text she had sent you just fifteen minutes earlier.

You debate calling Penelope again, asking her if she was sure this was where she tracked Emily's phone to. But then, you spot her.

She is sitting across the street, on one of the benches near the playground, her umbrella long abandoned by her feet. She just sits there, letting the rain fall onto her face.

You want to go get her, but you don't. You decide to give her some time. Looking down at your phone again, you see the message from her, like so many others before. This had become a pattern for you and her, and you don't think she will stop any time soon. But you won't either. Because you would do anything for her, anything to make her trust you, to give you a chance.

You watch as she lifts her head up, just as the rain starts to fall harder.

Again, it takes all your self-control not to go out there and get her, and wrap her in your arms just like every other night. But you want this night to be different.

Every time, you would come find her at whatever dingy bar she'd chosen that night, and ignore her slurring as you nodded to the bartender and practically carried her to the car. Then, you would drive her home and settle her into her bed, murmuring a good night.

Sometimes, you would even stay. Just for a couple minutes, to watch her sleep. It was rare that you ever got to see her so peaceful.

And then you would leave, promising yourself that this was the last time, when you knew all too well that it wouldn't be. The truth is, you would do anything to show her how much you love her.

You know she knows. You had told her, not outright, of course, but in that effortless language the two of you share. And she hadn't given you an answer yet.

You understand that she hasn't made her mind up yet. You know what she's been through; how hard it is for her to let someone in. But you wonder if she knows that you would never hurt her, that you would never leave.

So you guess you've been trying to prove just that to her with these late-night encounters, and truthfully, you don't know if you're getting anywhere. But you have to hope, that somewhere, she knows how much you care. She does know you, probably better than anyone else.

And she's good enough to wait for. You know that; you've been waiting for five years.

From the moment you saw her in the conference room for the first time, you knew she belonged in your arms. Maybe it was when she told you about her date that time; when she told you she loved Kurt Vonnegut. Or maybe it was when the two of you first got partnered up, and you got to see her in the field, so driven and fierce and sensitive at the same time. Anyhow, you've known for years. You've just been waiting for her to be ready. And truthfully, you know you'll wait forever if that's what it takes.

You'll die for her, if that's what it takes, too.

You know you would do anything, and it scares you. Being so completely in love with one person would scare anyone, especially you. You, the commitment-phobe, are in love, and trying to force someone into a relationship. How painfully ironic.

But you know it's true. Unbeknownst to the team, you haven't had a girlfriend in five years. Yes, you've had occasional one-night stands, but nothing serious, not since you met her.

And you've been patiently waiting. But tonight, you want things to change. You don't want to push her into anything, but you have to tell her how much she means to you. She has to know.

You can't help hoping that something will change when you tell her. That maybe she'll miraculously tell you she loves you too. But this isn't a perfect world, there are no happy endings, as much as you wish there were.

So you get out of the car slowly, and cross the street to the playground. By the time you're there, you're already soaked to the bone, but you don't care.

As you get closer, you see Emily's face, her makeup running down her cheeks in streams. You see the rain and tears mixing into a smudged mess on her face. But to you, she has never looked more beautiful.

You stand, not more than a foot away from her, watching her look at the sky. You don't know how drunk she is, but you assume the worst. Finally, you gather up the courage to say something.

"Why do you keep doing this?", you ask, as she runs her hands through her hair, plopping down on the bench.

She looks, with empty eyes, at the playground, which somehow seems dreary and sad in the rain.

"Why do you keep coming?", she says quietly.

Her words echo in your head though, as you search for the answer. But somehow, no words you think of sum up what you're feeling. You don't have an answer for her. So you just sit down on the bench next to her, shrugging your shoulders.

A moment passes, neither of you saying anything.

"God, I'm an idiot, aren't I?", she says out of the blue, and you start to think she's more drunk than you originally thought.

"What are you talking about?", you say, as she stands up again.

"You – you've been here every time I needed you, you've picked me up and took care of me, you told me that you wanted to be with me, but I was scared. Now I'm here, getting drunk, feeling sorry for myself, when I've got a chance in happiness standing next to me every day!", she rants. It doesn't look like she plans on stopping, so you get up and pull her into a hug.

You're surprised at her words though. _She'd known, _you can't help thinking. This whole time, she'd known how much you cared for her, but she hadn't given you an answer. Part of you is angry at her, but you know how high her walls are built. Those seemingly unbreakable walls she'd built around her heart god-knows-how long ago. You understand how hard it is for her to trust someone, you're the same way.

After a while, she pulls her head off your chest, and looks up at you.

"Does the offer still stand?", she asks. You're dazed at the question. Is she saying what you think she is? You see her face moving closer to yours, your eyes fixed on her lips, which seem to be getting closer to yours every second, and you know you're right.

The rational part of you is screaming to pull away. Because she's drunk, and before you hope for anything, definitely before you kiss her, you have to make sure this is what she wants. You have to know that this won't be just some drunken mistake that she won't remember tomorrow.

But that rationale all goes out the window as her lips meet yours. Is it so wrong, you think, for you to have at least one night?

She tastes of whiskey and gum, and you're convinced it's the best kiss you've ever had. The way she's kissing you right now, she has to means this. Maybe she's been wanting this too.

And as you stand there, a thought crosses your mind: What a perfect first kiss, in the rain, just like in the movies. Except for the fact that what the two of you are doing is completely wrong, she's drunk, and you're hoping this will last until tomorrow.

But, somehow, it seems perfect to you.

**[Leave me a review? They make my day ;D]**


	2. Chapter 2

**[Wow, this has been not updated for a while.**

**I wasn't going to write another chapter honestly, because I didn't want to ruin it, but I went back and re-read chapter 1 and I had to add to it.**

**So here you go, enjoy!]**

"_You cannot make someone love you. You can only make yourself someone who can be loved."_-Derek Gamba

You open your eyes to the gentle sound of your phone vibrating against the table. It's too far for you to reach, so you decide not to pick up. Just like that.

For maybe the first time in ten years, you don't jump out of bed when the phone rings. Because for the first time, you don't care that it might be a case. All you know is that you want to stay in this moment as long as possible.

If you could stop time, right here and now, you would. You could spend forever with her hair sprawled on your chest, watching the elegant line of her neck as she slept.

For a second, you think this might be a dream – god knows you've dreamed of this before. But then, memories of last night come flooding back to you, and the guilt and shame roll in like the tide.

All of a sudden you want to run away – you want to write a note with a vague apology, leave, and spend the next couple of weeks expertly avoiding her gaze.

But you have to be more of a man than that. You'd taken advantage of her being drunk last night, you have to at least own up to that.

She's still your best friend, she deserves to know that you're sorry.

You hold your breath as you feel her stir. She lets out a groan and opens her eyes just a crack, settling further into the crook of your arm and closing them again.

You're a bit confused – you expected more of a reaction than that. Yet, she's not fully awake yet.

So you wait. You can practically hear her brain working as she tentatively opens her eyes again, this time looking up into your face.

"Oh God.", she mumbles, lifting her head up off your body.

You keep your composure, but you're slightly offended. You know that she doesn't want this, but you hadn't expected _that_.

But before you have a chance to say anything, she's up and sprinting towards the bathroom, her hand firmly over her mouth.

You're right behind her, catching the door before it slams.

"Em, Emily, what's wrong?", you say, panicked, as she lifts the lid of the toilet up and starts throwing up.

You come up behind her and gather all her hair, holding it back for her and running circles down her back.

A million possibilities of what could be wrong run through your mind, like they always do when it comes to her. You hear the toilet flush and she looks up at you with shining eyes and an apologetic expression.

"Good morning to you too.", you say, smiling, trying to lighten the mood.

She grimaces. "I don't know what that was – sorry you had to see that."

She looks so lost and guilty, it takes all your self control not to wrap her in your arms and hold her, like you had last night. You push those thought out of your head though – you don't need them there, adding to your guilt.

"Hey, no worries Em.", you say, using the familiar nickname, hoping that it might bring some normalcy.

She gets up slowly and leads you out of the bathroom into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water and rinsing her mouth.

"So.. what exactly brings you here?", she says, cringing again.

What can you say? You can tell her that you had taken complete advantage of her last night, that you knew she was drunk, yet you still let that happen and potentially ruin everything you and her have. And you can tell her that you would do it all over again, just to get that one night; because you're in love with her, you always have been.

But you won't say any of those things, because you're ashamed, and you're terrified. Because a coward is exactly what you've become.

"You didn't seem too surprised.", you say instead, hoping to veer off of the impending topic.

She shrugs, putting her glass in the sink and reaching into her fridge. "Been waking up next to a lot of men lately.", she says, her voice almost disgusted.

"Is that so?", you respond, jokingly, of course, but even you can hear the jealousy in your own voice.

It shouldn't bother you, of all people, that she was sleeping around. But it does – somehow, that little green monster got inside of your head, and it's not leaving anytime soon.

"Coffee?", she says, and you just nod in response.

Part of you desperately wants to act like this is just a regular day. You could do that, couldn't you? Not mention anything to her, not have the conversation you'd been dreading – the one where she rejects you again.

But you know it's inevitable. You never wanted things to be awkward, and that's exactly how they were going to turn out if you didn't talk about this.

"Here – black, two sugars.", she says a couple minutes later and places the cup in front of you with a smile on her face. God, you love her smile. When she smiles, really smiles, it lights up your whole day. You just wish that would happen more often.

"Emily, about yesterday -", you start, but she cuts you off with a wave of her hand.

"No, Morgan, listen, it wasn't your fault. I've been dealing, or should I say _not_ dealing, with my problems in such a wrong way. And I really appreciate you being there for me. Thank you. And really, we both knew this would happen eventually – so lets just forget it.", she says, but you can't help but see a flash of desire in her eyes.

If you don't ask her now, you know you never will. You'll hate yourself forever if you don't find out how she really feels. So you take a step closer to her, trapping her between your body and the counter. She looks up at you, questioning, wearing that same untrusting and uncertain look that always crossed her face when you overstepped.

But this time, you don't care. This time, you won't back off, because you need to know.

"Emily. Do you regret last night?"

Her mouth just opens and closes, like it sometimes does when she's shocked. Her eyes show surprise, and you know that she's coming up with a well-formulated lie in her head. But you hope she knows better than to lie to you.

"I- I can't say I do.", she exhales, looking away from you.

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks. Yes, you'd hoped that she would someday say this, you've waited for this for years, but now that it's actually happening, you find you have no idea what to do.

You want to push her up against the counter and kiss her. You want a repeat of last night, this time knowing that it's not just temporary.

But before you can do anything, the phone rings. She clears her throat and you step away, letting her get it.

"Yes... No, he's fine I think... Penelope, I swear... Okay, I'll swing by his place... We'll be there in an hour PG... Yeah, don't worry."

You listen to her one-sided conversation, and automatically feel guilty for making Penelope worry.

"Garcia was about to send a SWAT team to your house – you've really got to start answering her phone calls.", she says, smiling that genuine smile that you love so much.

"Well, I was a little... preoccupied.", you say, flashing a flirty grin. As much as you love the joking and flirting, part of you wants to go back to the serious conversation, to make sure you weren't imagining Emily's response.

But you know the time for that is over. You and her would talk, eventually. You just have to take it one day, one joke, at a time.

She grins at you and playfully swats your arm, and for a second you're lost in her eyes, like you often are. The look between the two of you lasts a second too long, and the playful moment you were sharing quickly turns awkward.

You clear your throat, looking away. "So, did Pen say we have a case?", you ask, taking a gulp of your coffee.

"Yeah, I told her I'd pick you up and we'd meet everyone else in the conference room in an hour.", she says. "But, since you're already here, I guess we have some time to waste."

You smile at her attempt to shrug the events of last night off. This is part of what you love about her.

"You up for some breakfast then? I know this little cafe...", you say, hoping for maybe a little more time together.

She looks unsure for a second, before shaking her head a little and smiling.

"That sounds great, Derek."

The use of your first name startles you a little, but you don't let it show.

Sure, you'd gone to eat together before. You were partners, you were best friends. But somehow, you feel that this time will be different. You definitely hope so, and after what she had said this morning, you think you may be right.

Maybe, just maybe, things between you and Emily were finally beginning to change.

**[Okay, so I know that wasn't as good as chapter 1, but is it good enough to maybe continue?**

**I kind of want to see where this story-line goes, but I don't know.**

**What do you guys think?] **


	3. Chapter 3

"_All of us, at certain moments of our lives, need to take advice and to receive help from other people." -_Alexis Carrel

You swing open the door of the familiar cafe and follow Emily in. The smell of brewing coffee and pancakes hits you hard, but somehow still not hard enough to get rid of the smell of her that lingers – so sweet and intoxicating at the same time.

"You come here often?", she says, sitting down at one of the tables in the center of the room. You almost tell her that this isn't your regular table (back corner, by the booth is where you always sit), but you don't. You figure if you want a new beginning with her, this is a damn good place to start.

"Well, I'm not much of a cook princess."

She smiles at you and shakes her head, but you know very well that neither is she.

"Don't you shake your head at me. Nu-uh, not coming from the woman who burns _toast._", you say, remembering an old memory, and it instantly makes you smile.

It makes her flustered, which only somehow makes her look more beautiful.

"That was one time! I'm not_ that_ bad of a cook.", she says defensively.

"I'm gonna need some proof of that Em.", you say, knowing full well that she would accept – Emily Prentiss was all for a challenge.

"You've got yourself a deal then."

You order your usual, and watch as she pours over the menu, finally settling on just plain waffles.

"Waffles, really? I expected something fancier from an Ambassador's daughter.", you tease, and she makes a face at you.

"Filet-mignon is great and all but Derek, sometimes, just plain waffles are all a girl needs."

You laugh, she laughs, and after a second you fall into silence. You're almost ready to make another joke, but Emily speaks first. And what she says completely throws you off balance.

"We should probably talk about this.", she says, slightly unsurely, but just the fact that she acknowledges the elephant in the room is so unlike her. It makes you think that Paris changed her, even more than you imagined.

You're fully not prepared to talk, so you decide to play dumb, hoping maybe it'll go away.

"Talk about what?"

She rolls her eyes at you, taking a breath.

"I don't know, maybe about how I ended up in your bed last night."

For some reason, your mind picks now to notice what she's wearing – a low-cut red shirt and jeans. You love red on her, and you can't help thinking how good she looks, which just leads to a whole other train of thought.

Before long, she's looking at you expectantly, and you realize you haven't answered.

"Well technically, it was _your_ bed.", you say, because it's the best thing you can come up with.

She rolls her eyes again, opening her mouth to say something, but the waitress coming with your food cuts her off.

The pancakes are placed in front of you, but suddenly, you don't seem so hungry anymore.

"Derek, I just... Thank you. For all the nights. Picking me up and everything. Really, I mean it.", she says, and her hand touches yours across the table.

"Emily, you... You need to stop this.", you say, looking up at her, seeing the surprise flash over her face.

You see the abandonment too, and automatically you start to regret it, because the worst thing would be losing her trust – she needs to know that you'll always be here, regardless.

And yet, you can't let her do this to herself. You'd seen what happened this morning. You've been seeing how she changed since Paris.

"Morgan, I appreciate the advice, but you can't tell me how to live my life.", she says, all the tenderness in her voice gone. Her eyes are full of anger now – you full well know she doesn't like being told what to do.

"If you don't want to... deal with me anymore, I understand, I'll ask someone else, but don't go and start telling me what I can and cannot do.", she adds, her voice getting louder, more bitter.

You close your eyes and run your hands over your head. This is exactly what you've been dreading.

"Emily, you know I would do whatever it takes for you. You_ know_ that. I just- I hate seeing you do this to yourself.", you say, gently, as not to agitate her.

She looks down for a second, and when her eyes meet yours again, hers are brimmed with tears.

"I don't know what else to do.", she says, her voice a starching contrast to what it had been minutes before. She almost sounds broken now, definitely damaged.

You reach your hand across the table, over the already-forgotten waffles, and grasp her hand, because it's the only thing you can think of to do.

"Em, look at me. I'll help. We'll do this together, alright?"

She looks at you, and for a second you see a stranger – a vulnerable little girl who is completely lost. And once again, you're baffled that this little girl could have lived inside this confident woman all along.

Emily nods, un-clasping her hand from yours.

"You've got to tell me why though. Tell me what happened that scares you so much,", you try, hoping that her walls stay down.

In seconds, her whole demeanor changes. The rage flashes in her eyes again, and she shoots daggers at you with her eyes. You're back to square one.

"If you just want to try a therapist act on me, don't fucking bother, it won't help.", she says, venom in her voice.

You can't help thinking how a harmless breakfast turned into somewhat of a battle to the death – into making a scene in the middle of a cafe.

"I'm trying to help you, so that you don't go and drink yourself stupid again tonight!", you say, your voice rising to match hers, your anger becoming evident.

Of course, she closes up just when you think you're getting somewhere. God, why can't she be simple, for once?

"What do you care? I am going to go drink again, because drinking makes all the fucking pain go away, it makes me _numb _Derek, and numb is exactly what I need right now! It helps, and for Gods sakes just let me be numb for a while!", she almost-screams, a tear slipping down her face.

For the first time, you really see how much pain Doyle has caused her. You see all the scars he had made, and you see how she's just been irritating them since she got back. Really, nothing's healed at all.

"What do I care? I care because I_ love_ you Emily, and I don't want to see you throw your life away!", the words are your mouth before you realize what you've done.

And you don't even see her reaction, because a second later, she's running out the door.

**[Reviews make my day! Tell me what you think so far(:]**


	4. Chapter 4

**[Final chapter guys, hope you enjoy, and tell me if you think the ending did the story justice!]**

"_There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness."_ -Friedrich Nietzsche

Everything seems to be in slow motion as you watch Emily run out of the cafe and across the street. You're very aware that every single person is staring at you, but you just can't get yourself to care. The only thing you care about is her, and stopping her before she does something stupid.

Blindly, you apologize and stumble out of the cafe after her, into the warm morning sun. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that both of you are already late to work, but it doesn't matter much.

You stand on the familiar street, wondering where the hell she could've gone. Looking around, you see no other place but her car – it's still parked across the street, and you know immediately that's where she is.

Taking a deep breath, you cross the street and knock on the window, preparing your apology. She doesn't respond, and that slightly scares you, so you take the liberty of opening the door yourself.

She's sitting in the passenger seat, her arms folded firmly around herself, staring at nothing in particular. There's a single tear rolling down her cheek.

"Em.", you say, hoping to rouse her, but she doesn't move an inch.

"Emily.", you get into the drivers seat and close the door, putting one hand gently on her arm.

At the contact, she looks over at you, more tears spilling down her cheeks. It takes everything inside of you not to lean over and just wipe them away, but you figure you've already crossed the line today, and you know you don't want to lose her completely.

She's looking at you now, but it doesn't look like she plans on talking, so you speak first, treading lightly, aware that one wrong word might just send her running again.

"Look, I'm sorry. But, honestly, I want to help you. If you would just... just let me in Emily, I could _help_."

Her eyes open and close a couple times, and she takes a shaky breath that sounds half like a sob. It rattles her whole body, yet she doesn't do anything.

"I hate... I hate seeing you do this to yourself. I've been watching as you ruined yourself, and it's been killing me. And I just, I can't do it anymore.", you continue, taking her hand in yours and squeezing, somehow attempting to restore some animation to her body.

You desperately want her to say something, anything at all. Anything to let you know that she hears you, that you haven't lost her completely yet.

The look in her eyes is hollow, like it was when you got into the car – the only thing that's changed are the amount of tears rolling down her face. You squeeze her hand even tighter and will her to look at you.

"No matter how bad it is in your mind right now, no matter what the damage is that Doyle made, I promise,_ I swear_ to you we can fix it; you and me, together. Please, just give me a chance. Please.", you finish, almost begging.

You refuse to let yourself believe that she's already too far gone, like so many of the victims you rescue every day. Yes, they're saved, but the monster inside them never really goes away, and they all find ways of shutting it up for a while.

Some do the healthy thing – therapy and talking, while some bury it inside and drink and use and have sex and never talk about it. That works, always, for a while, but then they begin to get in too deep. The occasional drink turns into every day, the needle once in a while turns into every couple hours.

It happens slowly, even though the people close to them would swear the change was rapid. But they lose themselves. When the alcohol or sex or drugs aren't doing it anymore, they just simply stop everything and they're gone, while everyone is left wondering what they could've done to get them back.

You know very well how this happens – you've seen it millions of times. Yet, you didn't realize it when it was right in front of you. And now, you're in denial – you can't fathom that maybe you've already lost her, even though you're the one that ever let it get this far.

"I- I... Were you serious?", she says, and you're so relieved you almost pull her into a hug right there. Maybe, just maybe, she's not gone yet.

"About what?"

She looks at you, her dark eyes sparkling with tears and uncertainty.

"When you said you loved me."

You take a sharp breath in, but you don't let yourself falter. You have to tell her, now. If you don't, you'll hate yourself. If you want to save her, this is the price you have to pay.

"Yeah, I was. Emily, I've been in love with you since you joined this team five years ago. I watched and I waited, and I played up the womanizer act because I knew Emily Prentiss wouldn't want me, no way in hell."

She keeps looking at you, but shakes her head a little, as if to make you feel a smidge better.

"I kept telling myself I wasn't a one-woman man. I kept telling myself that I would get over it, but something Reid told me once stuck, and I think it's true. He said that that women can sense when men are changing, and that the right one would find me when I was ready. And it's you Emily. You found me, and since the moment I met you, I knew. It's always been you."

Her brows furrow and her mouth opens in shock, and for a second she just stays like that. It's deadly silent in the car and no one moves. The moment seems like it would stretch on forever, but then she breaks it with a defeated sob.

Tears roll down her face and her body is wrecked with more sobs – it genuinely looks like she's falling apart. You stretch across the seat, somehow, and pull her into your arms, trying desperately to keep her together.

For a minute she just cries into your shirt, but then, slowly, her tears subside and she's just leaning her head against your shoulder and looking out the window. Then, she kind of half laughs, and you're confused by her again.

"What?"

"I just pegged you for being more rational, Derek Morgan.", she says, a faraway look in her eyes.

You pull her off of your shoulder, giving a quizzical look.

"Well, you say you love me, even though you know very well how damaged I am. I thought you'd listen to your brain before getting into something like this with me, because I know you know how much work I am. Following your heart's pretty shitty, if you ask me.", she says calmly, as if she isn't tearing herself down.

"Well, to quote someone I respect a huge deal, 'You don't choose who you fall in love with.'", you respond, remembering something she had said on a case once, something that had struck pretty close to home for you.

"And even if I did; get to choose I mean, I would still pick you, every time.", you add, hoping to get that idea into her head. And it's true, because you wouldn't want anyone else. The way she smiles, how sensitive she is, even how intense she is when she's angry – you wouldn't trade that for the world. She's perfect, and for a second you're overwhelmed with relief that you still somehow haven't lost her.

She smiles at you, genuinely, but the disbelief is still lodged in her eyes. And, behind the smile, you can still see the person she was yesterday – the one who drowned her sorrows in alcohol and slept with strangers to numb the pain.

"Just promise me you'll stop."

She looks at you, completely serious, and nods slowly. And your heart soars, because you believe that maybe, now, she'd let you help.

For a while you both just stay like that, her content in your arms – all the secrets are finally out, and you and her are healing. But still, that little part inside of you still wonders where you stand.

She turns towards you then, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

"I think it's about time for a proper thank you.", she says, and then her lips are on yours and it feels just like you imagine flying would.

It reminds you of the kiss you shared last night – except while that one was bittersweet, this one is sweet all the way. This kiss is hope, it's healing, it's a new beginning.

This kiss means you can stop waiting for her and live your life and be happy – something you've been afraid to do for a very long time.


End file.
